Morsill
by FireflyBullets
Summary: Cori is happy with mediocrity, but someone else has other plans. Cursed to live in Middle-Earth, she is taken in by Wood Elves and believes she is going insane. As if that's not enough, she soon discovers that some of her decisions can heavily affect the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. Slight AU, based on both books and films, set before the events in The Hobbit. M for violence
1. SummaryDisclaimer

'_What do they say? What do your stories of us say happened here?' Legolas asked, frantically, more frightened than she'd ever seen him. Cori shook her head._

'_I don't know – this was never part of any of them,'_

Cori is average. She has a fairly average life, average looks, average weight, average friends, goes for a few drinks at the pub after a week of work, and is content with her life of mediocrity. Someone else seems to have bigger plans for her, though.

Haunted by memories of fire, she finds herself in a place that can't possibly exist in reality – Middle-Earth. Taken in by Wood Elves, she is left questioning her sanity to the point of "just going with it". Until she finds out that sometimes, "just going with it" can lead to dramatic changes in the original stories of J.R.R. Tolkien – couples never married, children never born, meetings never made. And when these events change the stories, Middle-Earth's fate is changed.

Oh, and as if preserving canon isn't enough, there are things that were never featured in the original stories; dark things of pure evil, stirring in the shadows and casting fear and suspicion.

'_Hiding in the hills and waiting this out was never an option. You must follow your heart and instincts, and be there to stop things, or force things to happen. If you do not, Middle-Earth will fall, and the Shadow may even reach your own home,' he told her. Cori shook her head._

'_I can't do this,' she told him, 'I never wanted to be a hero. I just want to be normal.'_

_**I do not own the works of John R.R. Tolkien, nor any characters, events, or places featured originally in his Middle-Earth legendarium.**_

_**This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**_


	2. 1 Dying

**Christchurch, New Zealand  
>January 13<strong>**th****, 2013**

'Okay, I'm done,'

Cori stabbed the last of the bobby pins back into the cushion, as her supervisor examined the dress.

'Was this all you?' Jackson Everett asked her. Cori shook her head.

'Luce and I stayed up; I did a lot of the bodice and upper half, but Lucy sourced the fabrics and did the skirt and back design,'

'Yes,' Jackson turned the dummy around, looking at the style, 'The design people seem to forget sometimes – clothing covers both back _and_ front,'

Cori smiled. Lucy was having some family problems at the moment, and had actually left early the previous night, asking Cori to cover for her. This probably counted as "covering" for her.

'_That_ looks marvelous!'

Jackson and Cori turned to see one of the design department supervisors – his name escaped Cori's memory at that moment. He approached them, inspecting the dress, and grinned at Jackson.

'Knew I could trust you lot to get it right,' he said. Jackson gestured to Cori.

'This is the woman behind it,'

'_One of_,' she corrected, 'Lucy worked on it as well,'

'This is gorgeous,' the design supervisor looked at her, 'You look about the same size as Eva; you'd be a good model,'

'Little bit wider around the waist,' Cori told him, 'And slightly shorter.'

'It's already crossed my mind a few times, too,' Jackson told him. He turned to Cori, 'Okay, rack this one up and get those battle costumes to the set; there's been a change in the schedule,'

'Again?' Cori sighed, grabbing the dress and stripping it off the dummy, 'They do know it affects everyone when they change those bloody schedules, don't they?'

It was true; a film set was often run to a tight schedule, and if there was even a five-minute deviation, the planning of the entire day often had to change. The latest one was a result of a five-minute delay, which meant that instead of shooting one particular scene, they had to shoot a different scene, which often meant different costumes.

Cori stowed the dress away in a garment bag, before scanning through the racks of Dwarvish costume.

Cori had been reading the _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_ books since she was a kid. She'd received them as a gift for her ninth Christmas, and her father had read them to her as a bedtime story when she was even younger. She had tried to talk her older sister, Nikita, into reading them as well, but Nikita had always tried to act too mature for her age, always interested in boys and shopping and other things while Cori, two years younger, had always had more of a mind for high fantasy and fictional worlds.

Naturally, as a long-time Tolkien fan, working on the set of _The Hobbit_ films was a sort of dream come true for her – sure, she wasn't exactly a fashion addict, but she had an eye for clothing design and had been sewing a lot of her own clothing since her mother had taught her when she was seven. Costume paid alright, and it was long hours most of the time, but she met at least one of the major actors each day, and she'd struck up a close friendship with the stunt doubles, as they often were present for fittings instead of the actors.

'I need to get to the battle scene set,' she told Joey, one of the buggy drivers. He was a teenager who was out of school for the holidays, and his father had gotten him the task of driving the buggies around the set, conveying various crew members between locations – and usually at high speeds. Ever since the Director had taken his first (and so far, only) ride with Joey, the actors had been forbidden from getting in his cart.

True enough, it took them all of two minutes to cross from the trailer park to the far end of the studios. Cori couldn't help grinning as she staggered away from the cart, clutching the garment bags. She handed them over to the appropriate – powder fairy? Wardrobe consultant? Appearance technician? Cori was never sure what to call them, and she'd never paid enough attention at the end of the films to notice their title, either. In fact, she very rarely paid any attention to film credits unless it was the cast roll or the list of music used in the film. She was yet to pay attention enough to see her own name in the credits of _An Unexpected Journey_.

'Hey, Cori!' Todd, one of the props guys, grinned as he high-fived her, 'Taking a break from fashion and fabrics?'

'Yeah, my head is overflowing with revs and mods we've had to make to the Elvish gowns,' she nodded at the set, 'What brought you to the scene?'

'Someone broke their sword,' he gestured vaguely, 'Had to bring out a spare one.

Todd was an easygoing guy, two years Cori's senior, and he was always quick to smile with contagious excitement that infected anyone that got too close. She'd had a few drinks with him after finishing on a Saturday, and they sometimes sat together, with Cori's other friend on set, Lucy, during lunch.

'What time are you finishing up tonight?' Todd asked, 'A few of us were going to get some drinks at that pub up the road.'

'Can't, got a night of fixing tears and damage to the main costumes,' she offered a smile, 'You're welcome to drop by, though. I'll be in Costume until about ten,'

'Don't you start at four tomorrow?' Todd shook his head, 'You're crazy,'

'Hey, there's people who work harder than me,' she reminded him, grinning, backing towards the door, 'Text me if you're gonna drop by. And don't forget about Friday!'

'I'll bring my friend, Johnny, around,' he grinned, returning to the madness around the set. Cori stepped back out of the studio, relieved to see Joey was still waiting outside.

'Take me home, Joey,' she told him. He chuckled, and made a new record to get her back to the wardrobe department.

She stepped inside to see Jackson was already at it with Lucy, Karen, and Lauren, working on various rips and tears in the costumes. She sighed, finding the rack with her name on it, and dragged it over to her workstation.

Lauren and Karen left on time, and Lucy only stayed back fifteen minutes to get both of their work sorted into the racks the appearance technicians – Cori had decided to call them that for the time being – swung by in the morning to get them ready for the actors.

'You didn't have to tell Jackson I helped so much with the dress,' she told Cori when Jackson disappeared to get dinner for them all, 'He was praising me and asking where I found the spare fabric,'

'You needed to get out, so I covered for you,' Cori waved a hand, 'It's no big deal. Is your brother alright?'

'Yeah, he's awake and chatting up the nurses already,' she smiled. Cori had known Lucy – fondly nicknamed Luce – since high school, and they'd been in the (somewhat secret) Tolkien fan club together. She had even dared to date Luce's brother, Jason, but it had turned out they were better as friends with the occasional benefit on the side. Lucy left shortly after, leaving her and Jackson working together on repairs.

'What time are you on the clock until?' Jackson asked her around seven, as he put the last of his things away. Cori checked her watch.

'I've got these tears to fix but I'll go home after that,' she looked up, giving him a wry smile, 'Promise,'

'If you work after ten, don't come in until after six,' he told her, also smiling, 'I can't have anyone dropping from exhaustion.'

'I've worked longer with less sleep,' she told him, 'Worst comes to worst, I'll probably just crash on the rag bags,'

Jackson laughed, shaking his head. 'They're actually not that uncomfortable,' he told her, then sighed, 'Alright, but make sure you get sleep and something to eat. I haven't seen you eat anything but that small salad you had for dinner – if you could call it that,'

Cori only smiled as he left. She hated when people noticed her eating habits – or lack thereof. It wasn't that she thought she needed to lose weight or be thin – okay, there was some pudge around her waist that could go. And there had been signs of a second chin if she tilted her head the wrong way. And she'd lost a lot of muscle in her thighs since giving up horse riding and basketball, but otherwise she was a decent size. It was just that she…

Okay, she wasn't a huge fan of her weight. Bad thyroid glands ran in the Maori side of her family, and it had hit all of them around their mid-twenties. She'd even noticed the signs, what with a couple of stretch marks appearing on the sides of her thighs, and the jeans she'd had since she was eighteen were now tight around her hips. A couple of kilos off wasn't going to hurt anyone, least of all her. And seeing as she didn't have enough time to fit in a training schedule, her weight loss plan was focused mostly around her diet.

Cori sighed heavily as she finished the last piece – one of the hundreds of Dwarvish jackets. She slipped it onto the hanger and pulled the garment bag over it, zipping it closed and hanging it on one of the racks. Actors had busy lifestyles, so it was no surprise when their costumes got small rips or tears, and it was one of her primary duties to fix those up so they were invisible to even Elf eyes.

Speaking of Elves…

She paused as she passed the rack of Elven outfits, running her hand across the garments. These were simpler ones, worn by the various extras, but just as much attention had been paid to them as the costumes of the main elves. Cori glanced around, looking at the door, then in the direction of the prosthetics department. People worked there overnight, but the door to them was almost always shut, and they knew costume and wardrobe were usually all gone by this time of night.

She crossed to the rack where the female dresses were usually kept, and pulled one of them out, unzipping the garment bag. Evangeline Lilly, the actor who played Tauriel, was a little taller than her, and a little thinner, but the costume wasn't exactly tight-fitting, even on someone half a size wider than her.

Cori knew because she'd done this before. Just the once, but it had been a blissful once. She might have been twenty-four, but that didn't mean she wasn't prepared to act mature 24/7.

The dress flared slightly from the waist, so her cargo pants wouldn't be a problem, and her black singlet top was tight-fitting, which meant she could pull the dress on and not have to drop her own clothing, which meant it would make an easier explanation (lie) if she was caught out.

The dress slid past her shoulders, and she looked down at it, pulling it right in places and smoothing it out so it sat… well, it wasn't made for her, so it wasn't going to sit perfectly, but near perfect was good enough for her.

She picked a stray thread off the dress and sighed heavily, before moving over to the full-length mirrors. Yes, if she let her ponytail out, and then pulled back the upper half of her hair… no, that showed off her face too much. She teased her hair forward, letting the soft curls fall into her line of sight, and smiled shyly at her reflection. She didn't look entirely elvish – she needed pointy ears and a taller stature for that – but she looked good. Well, the colour of the dress made her look okay.

Cori had never liked her appearance. Her hair was slightly frizzy, cut to shoulder-length, and black. She had some grey hairs here and there, but not obvious, and dandruff had been a problem for her in her middle teenage years. Her eyes were a dull sea-green, borderline hazel, and there were a few ugly flecks of brown in her irises. They always looked too small set into her face, which was why she often added a thin line of eyeliner on her lower lid; even light-coloured eyeliner made them look just that hint larger. She wasn't curvaceous, unless a slightly pudgy stomach and "ghetto booty" could be considered as such, and she was just pushing a C cup. Her shoulders were too broad to look effeminate, and she wasn't one of the tallest people around. She sighed, doing a slow spin to admire the dress – really the only thing about her current appearance that she adored one hundred per cent.

As a child, Cori had been advanced, especially in reading and writing. Her mother had given her _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the _Rings box set for Christmas one year, and she'd read _The Hobbit_ in the space of two weeks – a remarkably fast pace for a nine-year-old. _The Fellowship of the Ring_ had taken her slightly longer, but she still adored them. Of all of them, she'd loved _The Hobbit_ the most. Even as a teenager, she'd dreamed of being in Bilbo's position, and had eventually found herself in it – an ex-dreamer suddenly thrust into an adventure. Only, her adventure was doing costume on a movie set.

It wasn't the ultimate adventure, but it was close enough. For now.

Cori twirled again, admiring the way the skirt fanned out, before stumbling and almost falling off the fitting dais – co-ordination wasn't her forte, and being tired didn't improve it. She straightened herself, smoothing the dress out, and looked up again, almost screaming and whirling around.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded, 'This place is closed,'

The figure, dressed in a somewhat familiar armour costume, stared back at her. She sighed, waving a hand.

'You're not supposed to be wearing that, unless you're here for a fitting,' she told them. The armoured figure didn't respond, and she gestured to herself, 'I'm making sure this is fitted properly.'

The figure still didn't respond, and she frowned, stepping towards him (or her – Cori wasn't sure).

'_Stop,_'

The voice reverberated throughout the room, and made her halt. It sounded like the voice used in the films, digitally enhanced or whatever. She tilted her head at the armoured person, moving to step forward again. He had left his hand raised, and as she moved, he hissed the single word again.

'_Stop._'

'I have stopped,' she told him, now certain it was a guy, 'Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here after hours?'

She realised where she recognised the armour from – Sauron's armour, as shown in The Fellowship movie. One of the guys in prosthetics had thrown a fancy dress party and Zach from Catering had come dressed in that. But that armour wasn't on this set, which meant this guy had brought it in himself. Die-hard fans could be creepy sometimes.

'Look, ditch the suit and get out of here now, and I won't call security,' she told him, 'Those are your options.'

'_Your "security" is no match for me, She-Elf,_' he told her, his voice still doing the reverb thing through the whole room. Cori was starting to find it a little creepy, and as he spoke, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. This guy was clearly in too deep, a nutcase fanboy – at least she didn't pretend to be LOTR characters beyond cosplay events. Most of the time.

'Look, mate,' she stepped down off the dais, 'I'm a cosplayer as well, and a fan. I get that you love the books and films, but this is going a bit far. I don't want to have to call security, so I'm giving you until the count of ten to get out of here,'

'_You will receive the same fate as I,_' he said in his hiss-like voice, and then began chanting in another language. Cori couldn't be sure, but she'd heard enough orc actors speaking it to know it was the Black Speeck of Mordor – or at least, the way it was usually spoken in the films. She waved a hand, moving for her mobile phone which had been left at her workstation.

'I didn't want to do this,' she warned him, 'But you're being plain-out weird, so you brought this on yourself,'

As she felt her hand close around the phone, though, there was a sudden flash of flame across her vision, and she spun around the see the stranger was… on fire?

No, he wasn't, but the space around him looked like it was. The flames rushed towards Cori, and she screamed, stumbling backwards. She slammed her hand down on the counter, feeling a sharp pair of scissors slice across her palm, and fell against the wall as the flames reached her, scorching her skin. There was a searing pain in her legs, hands, and ears, and she screamed as it intensified. It felt as though she was on fire, being burned alive, and she held a hand in front of her face as her eyes began to burn.

She kept them open in shock, though, seeing her flesh melting away before her eyes, her muscles turning to liquid and dripping from her arms. The dress was on fire as well, and as she looked up at the stranger, she realised that either she was hallucinating, or dying.

Or both.

The last waking thought Cori had was that whoever the guy was, he was _definitely_ not a cosplayer.


	3. 2 Waking

**?  
>?<strong>

Voices.

Voices all around.

'Does she live?'

'Who can say? I see no evidence of a spider sting,'

'Perhaps she fell? Even the Eldar are susceptible to the illusion of Mirkwood if they have not ventured here prior,'

Cori felt something dig into her ribs and she gasped, shrinking away from the pain. Her body was still aching all over, and her mind was slowly replaying her afternoon. The fitting with Eva, dropping off Aidan's outfit, Todd's invitation…

She screamed as she remembered the stranger, throwing fire at her in the workshop, and scrambled backwards on her hands. Her vision was blurred, and all she could see at first was darkness, twisting shapes, and a few points of light that stood out against the dark. A cold, sharp thing touched her lightly under the chin, and she froze.

'Tell us your name, elleth,'

Cori blinked as her vision cleared, and she looked up to see a young man standing over her, grey eyes glaring at her suspiciously. He was holding a long knife to her throat, and she swallowed nervously.

Then she realised he was in costume. She'd spent enough hours stitching Elvish garb to recognize it – even if it did look significantly different to the styles she was used to making.

'Lurien,' one of the others moved forward, saying something in a strange, vowel-heavy language, pushing the knife away from Cori's chin. "Lurien" lowered the knife, and the other man moved in front of her, dropping to one knee to look at her closer. He had dark blonde hair that hung below his shoulders, the upper half pulled away from his face, and his eyes were also grey, but a clearer, lighter shade. He frowned slightly at her, tilting his head slightly, and she saw the ears – not normal human-shaped, but slightly pointed, shaped more like a leaf than human ears generally were.

Cori lifted her gaze to see that she was in a forest somewhere, huge healthy-looking trees standing amongst old, twisted, gnarled trees that seemed to look evil. More than that, the entire air was different – rich, cool, with a sort of damp feel. She shivered suddenly, feeling the cold on her skin, and looked back to see the blonde one was still regarding her.

'What is your name?' he asked her. He had a sort of accent, mostly English but with a faint hint of Irish. He had fair skin, and was dressed similar to the knife-wielder. Cori hesitated.

'Uh… Cori,' she offered. Someone muttered something in the foreign language, and she looked around the blonde man – an elf? – to see three more standing around the edge of the clearing. They shared similar features – grey eyes of varying shades, and brown hair of varying shades. Two of them were men, the third being female. Her hair had a reddish tint to it, and her grey eyes narrowed at sight of Cori.

'Legolas!'

The blonde one in front of Cori stood up, turning to her, and she stared at him. _Legolas?_

He snapped an order at the knife-wielding man and another, smaller one, who both moved towards Cori. Sensing danger, she struck out with her leg, hooking her foot behind the knife-wielder's knee and pulling him forward. He fell to his knees, taken by surprise, and Cori used the moment to swing her legs around and knock the legs out from under the smaller one, rolling to her feet.

She was grabbed roughly, pulled back against someone's body, and the cold steel of a knife was pressed against her throat. She froze as she saw the blonde one in front of her, aiming an arrow between her eyes.

'Do not think that I won't,' he told her in a dangerous voice. Cori took a deep breath, then raised her hands meekly.

Obviously, someone had drugged her and dragged her into some sort of twisted roleplay game. It even felt like they were using real knives, for crying out loud! The entire fire thing must have been some sort of hallucination, an effect of whatever drugs she'd been given.

The "elves" relaxed, and the knife was removed from her throat. The blonde lowered his bow, still looking at her carefully as the tallest of the group said something. Blondie shook his head, replying dismissively, before looking at Cori again.

'We mean you no harm,' he told her, 'But if you attack again, we may be forced to hurt you. Do you understand?'

Cori nodded slowly. These guys were taking this whole thing a little too seriously.

'Look, if this is some sort of RPG, it's gone way too far,' she told them, 'Cosplay and role-playing is one thing, but kidnapping and threats – that's different entirely.'

'Save your riddles for the King,' the redheaded female warned her, before saying something to the one RP-ing as Legolas. He looked at Cori.

'We cannot linger,' he told her, 'This area is no longer safe.' He gave an order in the foreign language – Elvish, Cori realised – and a hand clamped down hard on her shoulder, steering her after the others as they started off. She looked up to see Lurien was steering her, and he looked at her with distaste. She didn't feel entirely safe around them, considering they'd gone all-out – _real_ knives, she reminded herself. Sure, they could be blunt, but the one RP-ing as Legolas and his redheaded female friend both had bows. Even blunts could do serious damage from point-blank range.

She followed them, looking around herself. The further they travelled, the less of the dead or dying trees she saw, and the more green and lively the forest seemed.

The trees ended suddenly, and she stared at the sight before her. They had _really_ pulled out all the stops with this one.

A narrow bridge, probably made from a fallen tree trunk, spanned across a deep chasm through which a violent river flew. A huge stone wall rose on the other side of the river, rising higher than she could see, and a pair of doors at least ten metres tall stood open, leading into the side of what Cori assumed was a mountain.

Lurien's fingers dug into her shoulder and Cori took the hint, following Legolas and the female across the bridge and through the doors. Legolas stood to the side as they passed, looking back into the forest, before following their group inside. Cori met his eyes as she passed, and he hesitated, before giving her a faintly reassuring smile.

Cori didn't pay any attention as he spoke to the others of his group – she was too awe-struck by the cavernous hall they'd entered. They stood on a huge platform that served as an entry hall, but there were no walls or ceiling above it. Giant, thick tree branches or roots wove over, under, through and around each other, creating bridges, stairways, and more platforms in a mazelike pattern. Cracks far above shone light down upon the subterranean city, and some platforms that ringed the walls were enclosed, rooms of a sort.

'You guys really went all out,' she said mostly to herself. She looked back down to see that Legolas was watching her carefully.

'Welcome to the Woodland Realm,' he told her. Cori realised the others had disappeared, leaving them on the platform. Here and there she could see graceful figures moving around the maze, the sunlight catching off clothing.

'This way,' he told her after considering her for a moment, turning and leading her up one of the flights of stairs, 'All visitors and wanderers are taken to see the Elvenking,' he explained, 'Especially unusual guests such as yourself,'

'Comforting,' Cori followed him up several flights of stairs and over countless bridges. He paused as they stepped onto a platform, gesturing for her to continue upward. She hesitated, and he held out a hand, as if she needed the help.

Cori stumbled off the top step and onto a large, wide platform. Another set of stairs led up to a throne, and she stared at the man who was descending the stairs. He had pale blonde hair and the same grey eyes the other elf roleplayers had, and wore a headdress fashioned from what looked like twigs. Cori stared at him as he descended, striding towards her.

Legolas addressed him in Elvish, and he eyed Cori warily, before replying in Elvish. He and Legolas exchanged a few more words in Elvish, and Cori watched between the two.

'So tell me,' the tall man stated, turning his attention to Cori, 'What brings an Avari elleth to the borders of the Woodland Realm?'

Cori raised her eyebrows, staring at him. She suddenly felt emboldened. 'I dunno,' she told him, 'Maybe the drugs your idiot role-playing friends fed me?'

He narrowed his eyes dangerously, and Cori suddenly felt a chill. She glanced at Legolas, who was watching her impassively. That was probably when she realised.

Woodland Realm. Legolas. Elves. The sense of foreboding in the forest, and even the change in the taste and smell of the air.

'Oh god. Oh my _god_!'

Cori knew her eyes were widening, and she stumbled backwards. The other elf turned directly to her, frowning slightly, and Legolas moved towards her. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her knees buckled suddenly. Someone tried to catch her but she slipped through their hands, hitting the floor on all fours.

She was hyperventilating, staring at the wooden floor that had been carved from tree roots. As she did, she noticed one of her hands, shaking horribly, and stared at it. She'd always lived with small hands with short, stubby fingers and nails that were often chewed to the bed. These slender hands with long, tapered fingers and perfectly-grown nails weren't hers.

And yet, it was responding how she was telling her hand to respond. Her skin felt like it was crawling as she realised she was still wearing the Tauriel costume dress, and she could see a small tear in the skirt. She'd have to fix that up. She needed to get out of the dress, or she'd be in so much trouble. If they found out she'd torn it when she wasn't even supposed to be _wearing_ it, oh boy she'd be in for it.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she looked up through blurred vision to see that Legolas – no shitting way was that _the_ Legolas, he was a fictional character – leaning over her. He looked uncertain, and glanced over his shoulder at the other before turning back to her, his mouth moving. Cori realised at that moment that she wasn't hearing anything but a buzzing in her ears, which seemed to be growing in volume. She blinked, realizing that the blurry vision was because she was crying, and she was rocking back and forth hysterically. The buzzing began to subside, but the sound of her own voice, sobbing hysterically as she choked out phrases that were almost incomprehensible babble.

Her first thought was of her mother. It had been just Cori and her mother for the last five years, and her mother worried sometimes unneccesarily. Was her mother still sitting up, waiting for her to come home? Or had it been so long for them that she had finally given up and gone off to bed?

Then she thought of her friends. Emma, Todd, Luce, Shane – they were supposed to be going out to the pub on Friday. It would be Todd's first time meeting her other friends, and Cori had told them to try not being too weird. She had liked Todd. Was he dead? Were they all dead? Would they ever know what had happened to her? Was _she_ dead, and this was some sort of afterlife thing, where you go and live in your favourite fantasy world after you die?

Actually, what _had_ happened to her? Cori felt her breath gasping in the thick, sweet air as she closed her eyes, felt a faint pressure on her upper arm, and distant voices, too far away to understand their words, which she probably wouldn't be able to understand anyway. She tried to think back, remembering Eva's fitting, dropping off the Kili costume, fixing up the seams, saying goodbye to Jackson…

She pushed harder, trying to remember after that – that was when it had all become foggy and unclear. She remembered picking out the dress, putting it on, and then…

Fire. A suit of armour, and fire everywhere. Cori felt the strangest sensation of falling as she remembered it, but it was as though that wasn't enough.

The burn started in her hands, ears, and the bones of her legs. Then it was as though the fire spread, covering her whole body, obscuring her vision. She knew that she was screaming, but the worst thing of it all was the lack of sound reaching her ears; not even her own screams! The burning became agonizing, and she thrashed around, as if that would free her from the flames. Her skin was burning, melting right in front of her, and her bones were slowly turning to ash.

Cori screamed again, feeling her vocal chords strain from the exertion, and her body stopped moving. The flames suddenly disappeared, as though a gust of wind had forced them all away, and she was floating in darkness.

No, not darkness; tiny pinpricks of light were visible in the distance, and each time she blinked, more appeared.

Cori stared at the skyscape around her. Logic was telling her she shouldn't be able to breathe here, and then she realised she wasn't even breathing. Was she dead, or was this some sort of deep dream?'

'Cori?' a voice to her left startled her, and she looked around to see a large, luminescent ball of white floating nearby, 'Cori, can you hear me? Please wake up!'

The voice was female, and sounded tearful, but it wasn't her mother's voice – she knew that much. She squinted at the light, trying to see if anyone was there.

'The fever seems to have abated,' an old man's voice said to her right, and she turned to see another light hanging there.

'Then she is not Elvish?' another voice asked.

'No, I fear not,' the old man's voice hesitated, 'She appears to be from a very distant place, possibly descended from... _him_.'

'The Immortal Man?' a third voice asked, 'He died without any children – and he was the last of his kind!'

'It would be impossible for her to descend from _him_,' the second male stated.

'I have only seen such a case as this once before,' the old man told them, his voice fading away.

'They said her breathing is light and quick,' an elderly woman's voice stated from the left, 'Not taking in enough air, so they've got her on the oxygen.'

'Do they think she'll wake up soon?'

'They don't know,'

'Do you think she will wake up soon?' one of the voices from her right asked. Cori looked around at the light to her left, to see it fading slightly. She knew that elderly woman's voice...

'She is already awake and listening to us now,'

Cori opened her eyes, staring at the two figures beside her bed. One of them was the Elf that had been there on the platform, although he was missing his twig headdress. The other looked like an old man with grey beard and hair, cloaked in what looked like grey rags. She looked over to see Legolas was standing on her other side, arms folded as he watched the other two.

'You gave your hosts quite a scare,' the old man told her, taking a seat by the bed. Cori frowned at him, and tried to sit up, but a hand appeared on her shoulder.

'Rest, for now,' Legolas told her, 'You have been ill for several days, but your fever broke late this evening. You are still weak, though, and will not be able to walk for a day or two,'

Cori looked up at the old man, then at the male Elf.

'I suppose introductions are in order,' the old man stated, turning to the Elf and then back to her, 'I am Mithrandir, also known as—'

'Gandalf,' Cori told him, 'Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, a.k.a Gandalf the Grey, one of the five _Istari_, or wizards.'

'Remarkable,' the Elf stated, 'As you said; she seems to possess knowledge that is impossible for her to know,'

Cori looked at him, trying to place him among all the different characters. Glorfindel? No, he didn't seem like the way she'd pictured Glorfindel. Then she remembered where she was.

'You're Thranduil, then,' she stated, 'King of the Woodland Realm.'

'How could you know this?' Thranduil asked, glaring at her suspiciously. Gandalf smiled.

'Now it is your turn to tell us _your_ name,' he stated. Cori hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she froze.

That wasn't her ear.

The last time she'd checked, her ears were human, a normal-sized, rounded, human shape. Not... not pointed and slim and...

'She looks shocked,' Thranduil noted softly to Gandalf, 'Perhaps you were right.'

Cori was too busy feeling the shape of her ears. Suddenly, Thranduil's words earlier made sense.

'_What brings an Avari elleth to the borders of the Woodland Realm?'_

Gandalf cleared his throat, and Cori looked up. It felt like she was in a dream, everything so surreal. This sort of thing was supposed to only happen in fanfiction. Oh, God, please don't let her turn into a Mary-Sue!

'We were waiting for you to give us your name,' he reminded her. Cori bit her lip.

'Cori,' she realised by Thranduil's strange gaze that she should probably go for something slightly more Elvish, 'El. Coriel,'

'Can you tell us where you come from?' he asked. Cori hesitated.

'Uh...' she decided she'd be better off telling the truth... of sorts, 'New Zealand,'

Gandalf nodded _very_ slowly, but Thranduil frowned.

'Where is this... Nuselind place?' he asked. Cori hesitated, and Gandalf jumped in for her.

'It's in a collection of islands, far from here,' he told Thranduil, 'You are already familiar with the name – Earth?'

'Where he is from,' Thranduil nodded significantly, then looked at Cori, 'And does that mean that she is a descendent?'

'Possibly,'

'A descendent of who?' Cori asked. Gandalf and Thranduil looked at her.

'Tolkien,'


	4. 3 Elves

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
>Iavas, Year 2925 of the Third Age<strong>

Cori's head hurt.

The migraine had lasted for the past three days that she had been bedridden, slowly subsiding but still there. Every time she tried to get more than four hours of sleep, she was haunted by dreams of the flames, and while she'd stopped waking up screaming, she still woke in a cold sweat most of the time.

Thranduil, after Gandalf had spoken quietly with him, had treated her like a guest of high honour. She had been moved to one of the rooms in the higher levels, given a maid (a lovely forty-year-old Silvan elleth named Mellana), and a whole heap of new clothing provided for her.

But for all the beautiful gowns Thranduil gifted to her and the welcome he suddenly offered, nothing could make her feel entirely better. Sometimes, before she dreamed of the flames, she would find herself floating between those two light orbs. The one to her right was often silent and peaceful now, while the one to her left often beeped constantly like a heart monitor. Every now and then, voices that she knew, or felt like she should know, could be heard from that side.

'You heal surprisingly fast, especially for an Avari,' the beautiful, mature elleth that had been looking after her told her the morning of the fourth day. 'If you feel tired, rest. I will see to it that meat is added to your diet, as you need to regain strength, and going outside and walking around will undoubtedly help.'

Cori nodded numbly, watching as the elf redressed the bandage on her hand – she could barely remember slicing her palm open, but the wound was deep enough to stop her moving her hand properly.

'When will I have full use of my hand again?' she asked. The nurse, who had given her name as Nemirwen, hesitated.

'It was a deep wound, but if it heals properly then you will have full use within a month,'

Something else was bugging Cori, but she didn't know how to ask about it. So far, she'd needed help to visit the bathroom, but there were other certain… hygiene things, _girly_ things, that she needed to know about. She cleared her throat uncertainly, and Nemirwen looked at her.

'Do I… what do I do when it's "that time of the month"?' she asked hesitantly. Nemirwen blinked at her mutely, 'Y'know, when I get my, er, flux,'

She stared at Cori blankly. '"Flux"?'

'Y'know, when I…' she lowered her voice, '_Bleed_,'

Nemirwen's grey eyes widened as she stared at Cori incredulously, and she heard a soft trill of laughter from Mellana, who had been setting out a small lunch for her. She said something to the nurse in Elvish, then looked at Cori.

'Only mortal women are subjected to that monthly,' she explained, 'Elleth do not "flux" in the way mortal women do,'

Cori managed a weak smile at the two ellith. 'I'm not exactly… familiar with Elvish nature,'

Nemirwen nodded, 'Mithrandir did say that you were not born an Elf – as absurd as it seems, for you appear Elvish to all. Now,' she pinned the dressing on Cori's hand and stood up, 'Keep that hand mostly still, dry, and try not to use it too much. Do not over-exert yourself; your body may feel better, but you are still weakened. Eat well, and sleep. I will see you tomorrow morning.'

Cori nodded as she swept from the room, and Mellana looked after her, slack-jawed with awe.

'You hold high in the King's favour,' she noted, turning back to Cori, 'To have the Lady Nemirwen treat you is an honour indeed, especially for an Avari. The King does not let his daughter even treat resident Silvan Elves – he is very protective of her, perceives a threat to her in every shadow,'

Cori stared as she moved to the side of the bed. '_That's_ Thranduil's daughter? I didn't even know he _had_ a daughter,'

It was true – in all the books, there was no mention of Thranduil having any other children besides Legolas.

Mellana helped her to the table, and Cori realised that Nemirwen's advice had rung true; laying in bed, she felt strong, and the first few steps had been easy, but by the time she had reached the table, even with Mellana's help, she had found herself struggling to breathe. Recovery was obviously going to be a long road, and the fact that the air here was so thick and _different_ wasn't helping any.

The food that had been set out on the table was mostly fruits and greens. For the last few days, Cori had been eating lembas; at first she had loved the sweet taste and the way it had made her feel well-fed, but as it is when a diet constitutes of mainly one thing, she had soon gotten tired of it. Now, she looked at all the fruits laid out in front of her, finding herself trying to draw comparisons with Earth fruit. The apples looked mostly the same, and the huge citrus fruit that had been cut in half already had to be a grapefruit, but there were no bananas, and the other fruit bore little to no resemblance of Earth food.

She picked up a peach-like fruit, noting that the only difference to it and Earth peaches was the colour of the skin – a bright red for this one.

She hesitated, then bit into it.

And spat the mouthful onto an empty plate to her left.

'What _is_ that?' she asked, dropping the fruit onto the plate. Mellana had pursed her lips, and was trying not to laugh.

'It is called a caernevyn,' she told Cori, 'Or caerna for short. They are quite bitter, often called an acquired taste.'

'If I ever see one of those on this table ever again, I'm setting it on fire,' she stuck her tongue out of her mouth in distaste; she could still taste the bitterness in her mouth, 'Pass us an apple,'

Mellana passed her one of the apples, and she bit into it, glad that it was sweeter than what she was used to eating – it washed away the bitter taste of the caerna fruit.

Mellana watched as she sampled all of the foreign fruits, most of which she ended up spitting out onto the "No" plate – Cori had decided to call it that because they were the things she swore to set on fire or dissect or throw at unsuspecting passers-by, if she ever saw them again.

'You have a very sweet taste,' Mellana noted as she cleared away the leftover food. Cori was resting in the chair, feeling better for having eaten something other than lembas bread, and she felt capable of walking around more.

'How do we go outside?' she asked Mellana suddenly. The young Elf straightened up and tilted her head. 'Nemirwen, said I should get some sunlight and outside air instead of staying in here all the time.'

Mellana hesitated, 'It is forbidden to go outside without an escort,' she told Cori, 'Besides, you need your strength for this evening. There is rumour that the King was planning to invite you to dine with his children and himself,'

'When did you hear that?' Cori wondered. She hadn't seen Mellana leave the room for most of the morning, and no messages had come.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Mellana smiled as she set the emptied platters on the table to answer. Cori pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly, and forced herself to walk to the end of the table as Mellana pulled the door open to allow the messenger entry.

Legolas eyed her critically, bowing his head. 'You look far better than last we met,' he told Cori, 'Forgive me if I was unnecessarily rude; the protection of our kingdom is not an easy task even in a watchful peace, and there has been rumour of ill-willed travellers in these parts.'

Cori waved a hand, noting that he was wearing a more formal outfit than he'd worn when she had met him; this was a robe similar to his father's, though it held less majesty. 'It's nothing. I can understand,' she told him, managing a smile. He raised his eyes and looked at her, taking in the Elvish nightgown she had been dressed in and the way her hair had been pinned back.

'The King has requested your presence at the evening meal tonight,' Legolas stated formally, 'He says that, should you accept, he would like to see you in the most recent dress he sent for you,' Legolas managed a slight smile.

Cori hesitated, glancing at Mellana, who nodded fiercely, her eyes glittering. She took a deep breath.

'Tell King Thranduil that I'll be there,' she told Legolas, who inclined his head.

'We will begin at sunset, in the Starlight Courtyard,' he told her, 'Mellana can show you the way.'

'I'll remember to look my best,' Cori told him, smiling. A little part of her was pleased to note that he looked nothing like the Legolas character in the films – his hair was a darker blonde, and his face was narrower, angular. He looked more mature, instead of looking like a boy.

Legolas nodded, turning to leave. He hesitated at the door.

'I'm glad you're feeling better,' he told her hesitantly, 'I look forward to seeing you this evening,'

Cori raised her hand in a small wave as he disappeared, Mellana closing the door behind him.

'He's so formal,' Cori remarked, and Mellana trilled with laughter again.

'He's usually much more formal,' she told Cori, returning to clearing the dishes, 'You go ahead and rest there, and I'll be back soon. You'll need some sleep before the evening meal, if you are to be joining the King.'

Cori managed the few steps back to the bed on her own, amazed at how quickly her strength had picked up. Still, the bed was warm and comfortable, and while her mind was still trying to sift through everything of the past week or so, she was content to curl up under the thick, warm covers and tell the world to bugger off.

Of course, being alone only seemed to make it worse. Cori had found herself drawing similarities between Luce and Mellana, and it had comforted her slightly. It didn't fill the gap, though.

She closed her eyes, feeling her mind floating away from her body. It was a terrifying experience at first, feeling detached from everything, but she'd come to enjoy it. She had remembered reading something about fugue being linked to out-of-body experiences, and had idly wondered a few times if that was what was going on inside her head.

She knew Mellana had noticed it, and Nemirwen had probably noted it as well. She just wasn't connecting properly. It was worse when she thought about home, and how far she was from it, and the people there. Even now she could feel a dull ache in her chest, which she knew as heartache. She'd known that feeling since she was fifteen, when her father had passed away after five years of chemo and hospitals and white walls and white floors and starched white sheets. Cori had sworn to never get so sick that she'd need a hospital after that – it wasn't the hospital itself that scared her, it was knowing that so many people that went in never came out alive.

But, as she found herself in that familiar starscape with the two stars hovering on either side, she knew that the left one was in a hospital somewhere.

She'd figured out that part of it. The two stars were, apparently, her two lives – one on Earth, that hung in the balance, and one on Middle-Earth – god, the concept was still so weird – where she was alive and (despairingly) slowly recovering. She'd tried reaching out to the Earth star, but every time she got close enough to touch it, she would return to the memory of the fire, and then she'd wake up.

This time, for the first time, she didn't reach out for the star to her left. She just floated there, hoping that someone would talk.

'Hey,'

Cori's head jerked up as she heard a familiar voice to her left.

'Any change?' Todd asked. Cori had the mental image of someone sitting beside her bed, shaking their head. Someone sighed heavily, and she heard foil crinkling.

'I brought a new set,' Todd stated, 'What do you want me to do with these?'

'Throw them out,' an unfamiliar female voice stated, 'I got them from the shop the other day, and they already looked wilted then.' she sighed, 'I sent Mum home. She's been sleepless for the last two nights.'

'The nurse I spoke to said there's not much chance she'll wake up,' Todd stated, 'Even if she does, they think she'll be in a fugue state, so she might not even be the same,'

So she was (sort of) right; she _was_ slightly fugue.

'Coriel? We have to prepare you for the meal,'

Cori heard Mellana's voice, and turned back to see the Earth star fading once again. She opened her eyes, and Mellana was leaning over her.

'You didn't have a bad dream this time,' she grinned, 'The visions must be fading.'

'No; I think I've just worked out how to avoid them,' Cori replied. Surprisingly, she felt very relaxed and well-rested; unlike every other time she slept.

Mellana had already pulled the dress from the wardrobe, and it was draped over the back of a chair. It seemed to be made of a sort of silky fabric, dyed a pale green with silvery, translucent sleeves that flared slightly from the elbow down, and a collar that rose up to cover the lower half of her neck. The bodice was laced in a similar fashion to a corset, and the skirt flared from the waist, which she knew would accentuate her (lack of) waistline and make it look smaller.

Mellana helped her into the dress, and then sat her down to fiddle with her hair.

'Your hair is beautiful,' she remarked, 'The colour is uncommon, as is the wavy style, but it seems to suit you perfectly,'

Cori managed a weak smile. 'It's always been too frizzy to really do anything with,' she explained.

'Frizz? Your hair is as smooth as silk,'

'Are you sure?' Cori grabbed a lock from Mellana's fingers, staring at it. Last she'd looked, her hair had been mostly black, and slightly frizzy with a natural wave. Now, it was a lighter shade of black, with what looked like brown and a hint of red shot through, falling in a soft, natural curl with no frizz at all.

Cori stood up, crossing to the large, full-length mirror that hung on the wall. As she stared at the stranger who stared back at her, she realised she hadn't even looked in a mirror since she'd arrived. Not entirely believing her eyes, Cori raised a hand in a gesture, and the mirror girl copied her.

'Is all well?' Mellana asked, moving after her. She appeared in the background of the mirror image, looking slightly concerned, but Cori barely paid her any attention.

The first thing she noticed was her body. The pudge was gone from her stomach, and the sides of her waist curved inwards only slightly, but enough to give her a figure. Her hips, despite the flared skirt accentuating the size, looked slightly thinner than she was accustomed to seeing, and her shoulders weren't as broad. She realised with a shock that she was also slightly taller – instead of pushing around 5'5", she was closer to 5'8", and as she gazed at her new body, an adjective came to mind that she would never have even dreamed of using before – willowy.

That wasn't all that had changed, and it certainly wasn't the part that had undergone the most transformation. Reaching up in incredulity, Cori touched her face gently. It was thinner, more angular, and the freckles that had once covered her skin were gone. She still had fair skin, but it was two tones darker than she'd had before, and there were no traces of the pimple she'd felt building up the last few days she'd been on Earth. Her nose hadn't changed much, still slightly flattened – she'd inherited that from her Maori grandfathers – but her eyes showed her Japanese ancestry, slightly larger and an ever-so-subtle slant that she'd never had before. Her lips looked thinner – at least there was one negative point to the whole transformation – but her eyes looked clearer; still sea-green, but no longer dull. They glittered like ocean waves under sunlight.

'You act as though you've never seen yourself,' Mellana noted. Cori shook her head.

'Not like this,' she admitted, and it was true; just looking at her reflection now, for the first time in her life, she felt confidently beautiful.


	5. 4 Dinner

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
>39<strong>**th**** Day of Iavas, 2925**

'The Starlight Courtyard is one of the few dining areas above the caverns,' Mellana told Cori as she led her up the hundredth flight of stairs. She turned back to see Cori leaning against a huge pillar, catching her breath, 'Coriel?'

'Too... Many... Stairs,' Cori was panting, but took a few more deep breaths before forcing herself onwards, 'So long as there's a seat at the top,'

Mellana smiled hesitantly, continuing onwards. 'If it is any consolation, this is the last set,'

'Oh, good,' Cori made a mental note to work on her fitness, especially if she was going to be stuck here a while. Stairs seemed to be the only way to get anywhere in this subterranean realm. She looked over the side of the stairs, and instantly regretted it. They had to be at least a few hundred metres in the air, and climbing higher.

As she (finally) reached the "courtyard", though, she realised the climb was worth it. She could see in every direction for several kilometres, over the tops of the trees. To the east, there was a large lake and beyond that, she could see a mountain – that must be Erebor. To the south, she could see as far as a ruinous peak somewhere in the far south of the forest. To the north, small mountains, and the sun was slinking below much taller mountains far to the west, the rays of light striking the tops of the trees and turning them golden-green.

The courtyard itself was more of a platform, suspended on the topmost branches of several large trees, and huge wooden columns soared up at least fifteen metres around the edge. Green vines weaved around the lower parts of the pillars, which were spaced at two-metre intervals. A long, narrow table stood in the centre of the courtyard, about twenty chairs placed at even intervals along its length. The head of the table was taken up by a larger, more elaborately carved wooden chair.

A trio of Elves stood on the eastern side of the platform, talking quietly. Cori recognised Legolas, his back turned to her, and she knew Nemirwen on sight, but the other male Elf didn't look familiar. He stood taller than both Legolas and Nemirwen, and his hair was a pale blonde. He was smiling, and saw Cori first, beckoning for her to join them.

Cori glanced at Mellana, who inclined her head and was gone, leaving Cori alone. She slowly turned, making her way towards the trio, and managed a weak smile at the three. The pale blonde Elf said something to her in Elvish, and she pursed her lips as Legolas said something to him in Elvish. Pale Blonde stared at her in astonishment.

'Legolas tells me you do not speak Elvish,' he stated, 'Surely he is mistaken?'

Cori slowly shook her head, 'He's right; I never learned Sindarin or Quenya,'

'Coriel,' Legolas drew her attention, 'This is Throndaer, eldest son of the King,'

'And our brother,' Nemirwen added, placing a hand on Throndaer's shoulder. He placed a fist over his left breast, and bowed his head.

'I am pleased to see our Avari kin are not as extinct as they'd have us believe,' Throndaer remarked, 'Well met, Coriel,'

Cori could tell there was a hint of suspicion in his voice, and she saw it when she met his gaze. He frowned slightly as their eyes met, too, and said something to Legolas in Elvish.

'He finds your eyes strange,' Nemirwen whispered to her, 'Few among our race have blue eyes; green is near unheard-of, and the shape...'

'Trust me, I find it weird as well,' Cori reassured her.

'Tell me, Coriel,' Throndaer was watching her again, 'Where is it again that you come from? I have heard the name Nuselind, but it does not appear on any of our maps, and the Avari never cared to travel westwards, for Valinor.'

Cori felt the corner of her mouth tug in a sort of half-grimace. They were getting it all so wrong.

'New Zealand,' she corrected, 'And it won't appear on any of your maps. It's a _long_ way away, far beyond any places you know,'

'To the east, then?' Throndaer asked, gesturing for what Cori assumed to be a serving-elf to bring over another goblet, 'Do you drink wine?'

'Not often,' she admitted, but he pressed the goblet into her hand anyway.

'It's one of the best,' Nemirwen told her as her own cup was refilled, 'Try it,'

Cori hesitantly raised the cup and took a sip. It was a red wine, but significantly sweeter than any red wine she'd ever tasted before.

'Sampling my wine before I arrive?'

Cori jerked around to see Thranduil had arrived, once again missing his twig headdress. He swept past them, taking his seat at the head of the table, and Throndaer, Nemirwen, and Legolas moved to take their own places. Legolas grabbed Cori's arm gently, steering her towards the chair on his left, and pulled the seat out for her, taking his own seat once she was settled.

As plates laden with food were brought out by more serving-elves, Cori felt Thranduil's gaze on her, and she took a sip of wine, suddenly feeling very subconscious. It was easy to see who held the power in this family.

'I am pleased to see you are feeling better, Coriel,' Thranduil stated coolly, 'At first, we feared your illness could be contagious; there are not many diseases that can cause such a violent reaction in the Eldar. But I suppose, our Avari cousins are not as immune to weakness as we,'

Cori couldn't figure out if he was making veiled insults or simply stating facts.

'Before you arrived, I was asking Coriel where exactly she travelled from,' Throndaer told Thranduil. With the two of them sitting next to each other, she could see the resemblance – not only in physical appearance, but also in their haughty manner and domineering nature. Thranduil's icy grey eyes speared Cori across the table as he took up a goblet.

'That is a question I'm sure all of us would like answered,' Thranduil stated smoothly, 'But as it has been brought to my attention that our guest has endured a – _horrific_ – journey, we must approach the matter with great caution.'

'I've a question,' Cori said suddenly, feeling emboldened by the wine (which she'd been gulping since Thranduil's arrival), 'Avari haven't been seen since the First Age, if I'm not mistaken, and – respectfully – you seem well-aged, but not quite _that_ old. How do you know Avari on sight if you've never met them?'

'They wander this way once or twice an age,' Thranduil replied, taking a small roll from one of the plates near him, 'I have met three; each time they have borne strangely-coloured eyes that are also shaped unusually. Few Elves of non-Avari blood have eye colour other than grey, and none have the slant yours bear.'

'What happened to these other Avari travellers?' Cori asked. Thranduil was serving himself food from each of the plates closest to him, and Legolas, Throndaer, and Nemirwen were copying him. Cori began to select food that looked like food she knew and would eat.

'They wasted away,' Thranduil replied bluntly, 'Or they were killed by the spiders on the borders of our lands. They are more reckless than the Silvan Elves, less wise, and far less skilled, closer to Men in skill and wisdom than the Eldar.'

Once again she wasn't sure if she should take offense or not. Part of her wanted to "accidentally" fling a piece of what looked like broccoli his way.

'All variations of a race have their strengths,' she told him, 'Some are not as apparent as others,'

Thranduil eyed her carefully, and she sensed tension around the table. 'I mean, courage can be seen as recklessness in certain situations-'

She cut herself off as Legolas clamped a hand over her arm in warning. Thranduil's face was smooth, calm, but she could sense that he was very tense. Maybe not such a good idea to challenge him, then.

'What news of Imladris?' Legolas asked Throndaer, who was watching the exchange warily. He launched into a recount (in Elvish) of his travels. Cori might not have known a lot of Elvish, but she knew enough about the Middle-Earth universe to know that Imladris was the Elvish name for Rivendell.

'You'd do well to keep your manners,' Legolas warned her quietly, 'The King does not take lightly even to minor insults,'

'I don't recall insulting him,' Cori told Legolas, cutting off a piece of meat, 'What is this?'

'Salted beef, from Esgorath,'

'Lake-town?' Cori asked. Legolas glanced at her carefully, then nodded.

'You may not have meant to offend, but he takes a challenge or disagreement as an insult sometimes,' he explained, 'Do not forget who paid for the dress you wear.'

Cori almost swore as she looked down at the dress. Legolas was right; as much as she wanted to bite back at Thranduil, she had to keep her temper in check, and that wasn't something she was used to doing. For starters, she'd never really had a foul temper before, and it was this inexperience that meant she had to be even more careful.

She put the piece of meat in her mouth and began to chew, then froze, slowly raising her eyes to look around the table. Nemirwen and Thranduil were engrossed in Throndaer's story (still being spoken in Elvish), and Legolas had turned for a refill of his cup.

As subtly as (she thought) she could, Cori spat the half-chewed piece of meat into her left hand and flicked it behind her. She'd had years of practicing the move when her father would serve lamb for dinner, so she felt confident that first and foremost, nobody had noticed, and secondly, the piece would have fallen beyond the edge of the platform.

As he set his cup down again, Legolas reached over, spearing the two pieces of meat Cori had taken and shifting them to his own plate.

'Be thankful the King didn't notice,' he told her softly. Cori pursed her lips, before spearing some sort of leafy green thing on the end of her fork. Apparently, she wasn't as subtle as she'd thought – but she did catch the hint of a smile as he glanced at her.

She forced herself to finish everything else on her plate after that, sensing that Legolas was watching her at intervals. After Throndaer had finished talking, Nemirwen began recounting something, and she, Throndaer and Thranduil began discussing something in Elvish.

'I've got to learn Elvish,' Cori sighed, finishing the last of the leafy green vegetables on her plate. Legolas had finished moments before, and an elf appeared to clear their dishes away.

'How is it you do not even speak Sindarin?' he asked. Cori shrugged.

'It's not a common form of speech where I'm from,' she replied.

'What language do you commonly speak in?'

'Lots,' Cori replied, 'We all speak English – you call it the Common Tongue – and then I learned Japanese and Maori as a child, though I can't really remember much of either,'

'Your parents never had you schooled in other languages?' Legolas asked, 'I have had a modest teaching in Quenya, and I was raised speaking Sindarin. I learned Common Speech after I'd matured,'

'Yeah, but you've had hundreds of years to learn all of those,' Cori pointed out, then realised something, 'Wait, how old _are_ you?'

Legolas looked shocked, and she realised asking his age was probably one of those etiquette things she shouldn't have asked. 'Sorry,' she muttered, 'I'm just... all the different customs and stuff, it's so unusual,'

He relaxed slightly, then hesitated. 'I am nearing six hundred and eighty-two summers,' he told her, lowering his voice, 'Nemirwen is one thousand and four, and Throndaer is one thousand, three hundred and twelve.'

'And Thranduil?' Cori had also lowered her voice.

'"The King",' Legolas corrected her, 'Is well over three thousand. Even I do not know for certain.'

'If you don't mind me asking,' Cori hesitated, 'What about your mother?'

She instantly regretted it as she saw the very minute, very quick flash of pain that crossed Legolas' face. She shook her head, 'I'm sorry, forgive me,' she began, 'I didn't know—'

'She has been dead for six hundred and eighty years,' Legolas stated, all emotion drained from his voice, and his eyes vacant, 'She was brave enough to venture near Dol Guldur, and was overcome by the spiders nesting there at the time. Her body was recovered, and set sail towards Valinor, and my father has never ventured west since, nor south.'

Cori suddenly understood why Thranduil was so cold; for him, the grief of losing his wife was probably still too close. Having lived possibly three thousand years with the same mate, and then to lose her – six hundred years would be like one Earth year to him. Nowhere near enough time to become accustomed to being alone.

She also felt sorry for Legolas, who was only two years old when his mother died; he'd never had a chance to properly know her, and never would. Hesitantly, she put a hand on his shoulder.

'I lost my father to cancer when I was fifteen,' she told him, 'My sister walked out two years later, and we've never heard from her since. It's been me and my mother since, and she still worries,'

She felt a dull ache in her chest, and sighed. 'She probably thinks I'm dead, now, or that I've left her as well. She's alone.'

She realised it had gone silent on the other side of the table, and both her and Legolas turned to see Thranduil and Throndaer regarding her coldly, and Nemirwen smiling slightly, as if at some joke. Cori dropped her hand from Legolas' shoulder, and it was almost as if the tension abated. Nemirwen's smile widened.

'Word of your arrival has reached Imladris, it would seem,' Thranduil remarked after what felt like an hour of silence, 'There are many Eldar who wish to meet the Avari who has travelled so far west.'

Cori picked up her cup as he spoke, taking a few huge gulps (disguised as small sips) to give her the nerve to respond. She felt more at ease with Legolas than his father – she was still undecided about Throndaer, though.

'Lord Elrond himself has expressed an interest in meeting you,' Throndaer remarked, 'I should like to send him word that he will indeed be granted his wish,'

'I don't think I'm up for such a journey just yet,' Cori admitted, glancing at Nemirwen, before turning to Thranduil, 'Besides, I'm enjoying your fine hospitality far too much to want to leave in a hurry. You've been a wonderful host, and I do apologise for any offence I may cause – the customs are so different here,'

She had only thought to add the thanks to try and get Thranduil to relax, even a little. She wasn't sure if it worked, but he was regarding her carefully instead of suspiciously now.

'You seem more civilised than the other Avari we have met,' he finally admitted, 'I am curious, however, as to why you decided to begin travelling west,'

'A story for another time, perhaps,' Nemirwen cut in, 'Coriel, though healing faster than the Avari are said to, is still unwell. I believe it would be best if we excuse her,' she added, 'We will discuss the journey to Imladris at a later date.'

'Of course,' Thranduil and his sons rose at the same time as Nemirwen and Cori, who realised she was indeed exhausted. Nemirwen helped her down the steps and into her room, and Cori was asleep before she even hit the pillows.


	6. 5 Changing

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
>Iavas 43<strong>**rd****, 2925**

Another night waking in a cold sweat.

Cori took deep breaths, closing her eyes and forcing her racing heart to slow. It was the fourth night after the dinner with Thranduil and his children, and the Elvenking seemed to have warmed ever so slightly towards her since the evening.

'You improve every day,' Nemirwen told her one evening, 'And you are sleeping less and eating more steadily – a sure sign of increased health.'

It was true – Cori could wander further and further each day. She had even managed to climb up to one of the watch towers on her own the day before. Nemirwen had said the fresh air would help, and it certainly had been – her recovery had accelerated since she'd started spending her mornings in one of the outdoor gardens.

The other dreams were starting to fade, strangely. She still dreamed of floating between the two stars, one with the voices of familiar people and the beeping of machines; but the dream of fire was slowly fading, washing away with time. She didn't feel a tingling in her hands, nor did she feel the burning pain in her legs anymore either, and all she could remember of the fire (not that she was trying) was just the image of flames filling her vision. It had become so surreal it was like watching a film – detached from her.

The dream of the stars was fading, too. She knew that the elderly woman who spoke sometimes was her mother, and the two male voices were Todd and Shane, but the other women were becoming difficult to place – Lucy, Emma, and a third whom she didn't recognise. She knew the names but couldn't place them with the voices. She knew she was supposed to remember, but she just couldn't.

Cori lay back on her pillows, inhaling deeply. She could smell fresh flowers, and glanced over to see the small vase of fresh blossoms had been replaced – probably by Mellana. She had discovered her senses were growing keener, able to see detail she'd missed before, smell things from further away, even hear footsteps passing by outside her door. She felt the texture of the blanket she slept under, finer than anything she could remember sleeping on before.

She didn't feel like sleeping any more. The dream that had woken her had been an apparently symbolic dream – she was sitting in the water at a beach as a wave was pulling back out to sea, and she was trying to grab it, keep it from leaving, but it was slipping through her fingers—

Cori took in another few deep breaths. Even thinking about it caused distress, apparently. Instead of worrying over it, she just pushed it from her mind for now. She rolled over, closing her eyes, but found that she couldn't get back to sleep.

Giving up altogether, she shoved the blankets aside, and pulled on one of the thick, heavy dresses that had been kept in her chest; this was the one she'd been wearing the day they'd found her, and it was made of a strange, somewhat scratchy material, a dark green colour that seemed to suit her. It was warm, too, which would serve well in the cool night air.

Mellana's room was right beside Cori's, and she hesitated outside the door. Nemirwen had instructed her to never go anywhere alone – Nemirwen believed she was still weak enough that she could injure herself. Cori decided not to disturb the resting elleth. Besides, she felt this was something she was supposed to do alone.

She climbed the stairs, following a path she couldn't quite remember, spiraling upwards, until she finally emerged on a large, circular platform. She recognised it instantly as the Starlight Courtyard, where she'd dined with Thranduil and his family. The platform looked deserted, and the table and chairs had been cleared away.

Slowly, she strode to the centre of the platform, turning in a circle to see the entire world laid out before her. The stars were scattered across the dark sky, far more in number than the sky she remembered. She could see galaxies here and there, and her eyes spotted out constellations – unfamiliar though they were, but formations nonetheless. None of the constellations she knew could be seen – the Southern Cross, Orion, the Pleiades, Taurus and Canus Major. They were all gone. Although, one group _did_ look faintly familiar, just reversed, as though she was seeing it from the other side.

'Magnificent, is it not?'

Cori nearly shrieked in surprise, jumping away from the voice at her shoulder. Thranduil paid her little attention, looking at the stars himself. He was dressed more casually, a simple gown in a plain colour and no twig headdress once again. She took a deep breath to stop her heart racing, and returned to his side.

'The sky is different, here,' she told him, 'We were taught that the further north one travels, the more the sky changes.'

'We were taught the sky is the same all over,' Thranduil replied, glancing at her, 'Although the stars may align differently, the night sky is still their playground.'

'That's a more comforting way to think of it,' Cori admitted, smiling slightly.

'It must be strange for you, to be so far from your home,' he remarked after a while, 'The other travelers we met, they wasted away from a longing for their own homes. When your fever abated, Nemirwen believed your illness was simply longing.'

'Homesickness, we call it,' Cori told him, then sighed. 'I was always told that the best way to alleviate homesickness was to make newcomers and travelers feel like they were already at home.'

Thranduil was silent for a moment, then looked at her. 'I apologise if I have seemed unwelcoming,' he told her, 'Few travel through these woods unless they have desperate need. It has also been a long time since Avari have been seen this far west – the last I saw one was nigh on seven hundred years ago.'

'Surely that would seem a short time to the Eldar,' Cori remarked. Thranduil nodded.

'The Avari, an elleth named Mari, became close friends with my wife,' he replied, 'She was vibrant, more energetic and reckless than even the Silvan elves. She led Laegomirdis on a hunt – I had tried to discourage her, but she had just finished nursing Legolas and wanted to share in Mari's "adventures" as soon as she had the chance. We did not know of the nests in Dol Guldur at the time.'

He stopped, and Cori could tell he was reliving the painful memories. She wanted to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but something told her he might balk at the touch.

But his story did explain his apparent coldness. The last Avari he'd known had ultimately led his wife to her death; no wonder he was so cold to Cori. Her presence probably reminded him of the events beforehand.

'What was she like?' Cori asked, 'Your wife,'

Thranduil turned to her, eyeing her carefully. He must have been satisfied about something, because he returned to watching the sky. 'She was the last elleth who was not Moriquendi to have green eyes. Many believed she carried Avari blood, and she bonded quickly with the three travelers we did meet. Her hair was a strange brown, almost like bronze, but under sunlight it looked almost blonde. Her skin was not as dark as your own, but darker than many Elves, and she was always smiling, always laughing. She was… perfect,'

He had closed his eyes, and for the first time Cori could see that he was relaxed. She realised she had misjudged him completely – what she had thought was coldness and detachment was actually just his defense mechanism – he had lost one of the people he'd been close to, and was afraid of feeling that pain once again.

'Too perfect for this land,' she said softly, without thinking, 'Had she not ventured with Mari, she would have heard the call of the Valar not a week later,'

Thranduil looked down at Cori, studying her, 'I have often thought the same,' he admitted, before looking back up at the sky and closing his eyes.

Cori did the same, though she kept her eyes open. Thranduil was obviously a difficult person to decipher – she'd had practice deciphering people before, and had found she was usually good at it, but he was a different case, somewhat more challenging.

A star streaked across the sky, followed by more. Cori smiled as she realised she was witnessing a meteor shower – even on Middle-Earth, meteors still tried to penetrate the atmosphere. She glanced at Thranduil, who was watching the event as well, before turning her attention back to the sky as more meteors fell.

'They look like they're landing on the mountains,' she said softly, glancing to the west where the meteors were falling.

'Beyond the mountains,' Thranduil corrected, 'It is a sure sign of events to come, or events already occurring in the west.'

Cori smiled as the shower continued, noting that the longer she watched, the more coloured the trails became – red, yellow, and orange streaks across the deep purple sky. Cori felt the light passing before her, seeming to move closer before finally petering out.

Thranduil placed a hand on her shoulder gently. 'You seem to be unfamiliar with a starfall,'

'They don't happen often, where I'm from,' Cori explained, 'In fact, there's so many lights on the ground that it's difficult to see the stars even in the sky. When we see shooting stars – a starfall – it's often just one lone star.'

Thranduil regarded her carefully for a moment. 'I spoke with Mithrandir, before he departed,' he stated, 'He is of the belief you are a descendent of a hero from your lands, a man we knew as Tolkien. I was close friend to him, but he never fathered any children here,'

'It's said that all people from my lands are kin,' Cori explained, 'So there's a faint possibility.'

'Tolkien was of the race of Men,' Thranduil explained to her, 'He did not age here, and so came to be known as the Immortal Man, but there is little to no chance of his descendents being Avari,'

'Beren was of the race of Men,' Cori pointed out, 'But his descendents were Elvish, if I'm not mistaken.'

Thranduil nodded slowly. 'For one who has lived apart of these lands, you are well-versed in our history,'

'The history of Middle-Earth is a subject of interest to many of my people,' Cori admitted, 'Though many stories never reached us.'

'It is odd that one of our greatest heroes is unwritten in the Avari recounts, then,' Thranduil remarked, 'But he was a good man. I knew him well, for he spent much of his time here in the Woodland Realm. He travelled all over, even into Mordor itself, but he always returned here. He was... a great comfort in the years following Laegomirdis' departure,' Thranduil added.

'You speak of him in past-tense,' Cori noted, 'I presume he has also departed?'

'He was grievously wounded by trolls in the North,' Thranduil explained, 'Fifty years or so following Laegomirdis' departure. He was returning here when he passed from this life. The site of his death is not half a day's ride from here, marked by his tomb. Throndaer and Legolas were planning to visit tomorrow; you could join them, if you are well enough.'

Cori smiled slightly. 'I think I'd like that. I'd like to learn more of him, too,'

'Throndaer knew him well when he was younger,' Thranduil replied, 'He and I can offer many recounts of Tolkien's adventures, though you may not be with us for much longer if you are to travel to Imladris.'

Cori swore, having completely forgotten the invitation – a formal letter had arrived the day before, from Elrond himself, offering a place within the valley for the winter for herself. Throndaer had explained that they had two weeks before the snows would cut off the mountain passes.

'You must stay for the _Mereth en-Gilgelaid_,' he told her, 'I may have been somewhat reserved in welcoming you to the Woodland Realm. I apologise if I have made you feel unwelcome at all.'

Cori waved a hand dismissively, 'I probably haven't been the most appreciative of your hospitality,' she admitted, 'Thank you for allowing me a place here,'

'Perhaps if you choose to stay in Middle-Earth, you might find a home here,' he smiled thinly, and Cori smiled as well. The Elvenking didn't seem so bad now that she understood a small part of his past. Maybe, if she _did_ stay, she would be able to become friends with him as Tolkien had.

Either way, if she couldn't figure out a way to get home, she would have to start making friends anyway. Why not start with a King?


	7. 6 Ambush

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
>Iavas 44<strong>**th****, 2925**

Cori had stayed up on the platform several hours after Thranduil had left, losing herself in the stars, before finally returning as dawn had begun to fringe the eastern horizon. Mellana had been in during the night at some point, and had laid out an outfit of shirt, vest, leggings and boots in varying shades of green and brown on the bed. Cori had just finished changing into the outfit when she returned with a simple breakfast.

'I was reading with Legolas,' she explained as Cori sat down to eat, 'Thranduil stopped by and told us you would be joining the sons on their journey today. The ride should do your recovery some good,'

Mellana plaited Cori's hair before leading her down to the stables where they found Legolas grooming a white horse.

'The King told me you'd be accompanying us,' he remarked, 'I trust you can ride a horse?'

'I'm capable,' Cori told him. She had faint memories of racing horses through dangerous gullies and down steep slopes, so she judged her skill to be adequate.

'You will take Alissel,' he told her, gesturing to a dark chestnut horse in the stable to his right, 'We will be accompanied by two of the guard, Lurien and Elloras. You may recall Lurien from our first encounter – one of the two you knocked down,' he added, smiling slightly. Cori pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

'I hope he doesn't bear a grudge for it,' she remarked.

'Elloras is young, and has not faced many dangers beyond the borders of the Realm,' Legolas told her, 'He is good company for short journeys.'

'Elloras is nigh on his hundred and fiftieth year,' Mellana told Legolas, 'He is not as young as you believe,'

'He is still somewhat reckless with his own life,' Legolas reminded her, eyeing her carefully, 'I have already given my reasons. Accept them.'

Mellana looked sullen as she helped Cori fit the saddle to Alissel's back. Cori raised her eyebrows, and Mellana sighed.

'Legolas took me in when I was a child and my family dead,' she explained, 'He raised me as a daughter, and still treats me as such until I reach maturity at ninety years of age.'

Cori nodded in understanding, then frowned. It was never written _anywhere_ (that she could recall) in the books, that Legolas had an adopted daughter.

Well, he was nearly seven hundred years old. More than that by the time he was mentioned in the books – and they hadn't mentioned family beyond Thranduil, anyway.

She recognised Lurien instantly as he and a younger Elf appeared, leading two light brown horses from a different part of the stables. Lurien saw her and suddenly looked like there was a bad smell around. Elloras, however, greeted her and Mellana warmly, first in Elvish and then in English.

'Throndaer said he will meet us near the entry,' Legolas told Cori as she pulled herself up onto Alissel's back, before following him, Lurien, and Elloras out of the stables. She had noticed Elloras present Mellana with a single flower – subtly, probably so Legolas didn't see. He seemed jovial enough, quick to smile, and Cori had to admit that he was quite handsome.

Alissel seemed to like Cori, paying attention when she gave the mare instructions and following them obediently. They climbed up a wide ramp to the front gates, where Throndaer met them. He inclined his head in greeting as he saw Cori, and she nudged Alissel to fall into step behind him.

They crossed the narrow bridge, the horses keeping their footing easily, and followed the road. Cori couldn't help but stare as more and more of the infected trees appeared, mingling with the healthy trees as they moved deeper into the forest. After what felt like an hour, they turned from the main path, Throndaer leading them north-eastward through the trees on a near-invisible path. Cori noticed that the number of healthy trees once again began to increase, and as they passed the last of the twisted, gnarled trees, she felt relaxed once again, and released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

It took another hour (in Cori's reckoning) before they reached a large clearing. Throndaer was the first to dismount, and he moved over to catch Cori as she slid down Alissel's side. Lurien and Elloras had already taken up defensive positions, Elloras holding his bow ready and Lurien with his (oversized) knives.

'This way,' Throndaer led Cori towards the clearing, and they passed between two huge wooden pillars, reminiscent of those edging the Starlight Courtyard. The trees had held back growing in a wide circle, sunlight filling the clearing. Soft, springy grass grew underfoot, still slightly damp from the morning dew, and in the centre of the clearing stood a large stone tomb, rectangular in shape. Throndaer moved to it and pulled away the few tendrils of ivy that had dared to creep up the side, brushing leaves from the top. On top of the tomb stood a huge stone wolf, it's face pulled into a wide, perpetual snarl.

'"The Last Resting Place of the Immortal Man, Reues Tolkien",' Legolas read, 'Long has it been since I have seen this place. Far too long,'

'"Only kin may receive my gift",' Cori read, and Throndaer and Legolas both turned to her in surprise.

'Where is that written?' Legolas asked. Cori gestured to the second inscription, carved at the foot of the tomb. He and Throndaer exchanged looks.

'You can read Angerthas?' Throndaer asked.

'It was one of the written languages I taught myself,' Cori admitted, 'But I can't understand the runes unless they are arranged to represent a language I know, like the Common Tongue.'

'The Common Tongue, of course!' Throndaer looked at Legolas, 'And here we have thought it was his homeland's language!'

'None have told us how to translate the second inscription,' Legolas explained, 'To us, reading it as Elvish, it appears incomprehensible, a mindless collection of letters. None thought to consider the Common Tongue,'

'Aren't you lucky you've got me, then?' Cori asked, grinning. A glimmer in the mouth of the wolf caught her eye suddenly, and she moved towards it, 'What's that, in the wolf's mouth?'

'That is his sword,' Throndaer replied, 'Legends say that only one of his blood can remove it. Many of the strongest races of Middle-Earth have tried, but none can take it up,' as if to demonstrate this, he reached into the wolf's mouth and gripped the hilt, tugging hard at it. 'Held fast,' he stated.

Something seemed off to Cori, and she tilted her head. 'Why a wolf?'

Throndaer and Legolas looked at her, then at the tomb. 'The statue?' Throndaer realised, 'It is a likeness of his lifelong companion.'

'Yeah,' Cori nodded, 'But… I thought wolves were supposed to be a creation of Morgoth the Enemy,'

Throndaer and Legolas hissed softly. 'This is a place of peace,' Legolas told her, 'Do not speak The Enemy's name here,'

'Sorry,' Cori grimaced, 'But I'm right, aren't I? Wolves, and canines in general, were reportedly creations of evil,'

'The wolf was the runt,' Throndaer explained, 'It was left to die, and Tolkien took it in, nurtured it, and taught it to live tame. Many turned him from their doorstep while he travelled with it. He even gave the beast a name – Eradrien.'

'And it travelled with him everywhere?' Cori asked, looking at the statue. It looked vicious, like it was defending something.

'Everywhere,' Throndaer nodded, as Legolas moved around the tomb. 'The wolf lived a long life – twenty years, more than twice that of the normal life span. Many became accustomed to seeing it with Tolkien that they gradually accepted the pair. There were even stories that the two could speak through the mind, stories which were never proven neither true nor false,'

'What happened to the wolf?' Cori asked softly. Throndaer reached up, holding a hand to the statue's muzzle.

'While travelling in the northern ranges, the two were attacked by trolls,' he replied, 'Tolkien would have been overcome had it not been for Eradrien, who leapt at the troll's throat and tore much of the flesh away. The Dunedain who witnessed it said they had never seen any being show such devotion, for the troll eventually pulled Eradrien from him, throwing him against a rock. Rather than let his friend die slowly from the wound, Tolkien killed him quickly, driving his sword through the wolf's skull.'

'A likeness of Eradrien stands here because it was Tolkien's last wish,' Legolas explained, rejoining them. 'In his final hour, when he could no longer ride nor be carried, he told those with him to create another Eradrien of stone, with the sword encased in the rock but accessible,'

'Some sort of Arthurian legend, then,' Cori noted. The brothers frowned slightly, regarding her, before she rolled her eyes. 'Magical sword buried in stone, enchanted so that only a very specific person may remove it at some point in the future and until then, nobody else can.'

'You have seen this magic before, then?' Throndaer asked. Cori shrugged.

'It was one of our most popular legends,' she explained, 'I'll tell you about it on the ride back,'

Throndaer had been watching Legolas, and Cori glanced over as he stiffened.

'There is a presence,' Legolas told them quietly, looking around, 'A sense of foreboding,'

As he stated it, Throndaer turned, drawing his sword. Legolas had suddenly unslung his bow from across his body and notched an arrow, pointing it at the ground for now.

'What is it?' Cori asked, sensing something as well. Throndaer raised a hand to keep her silent, and she heard it: a soft, scurrying sound, with clicking and a faint hissing sound. She noticed at the same time that the birds that had previously been calling to each other had suddenly stopped, falling silent.

There was a shout, a word in Elvish, that came from the trees where Lurien and Elloras were positioned, and both Legolas and Throndaer moved into an attack position, Throndaer pushing Cori between himself and the stone tomb.

Legolas loosed an arrow, which struck something in the trees and brought it down with a heavy crash. The arrow had barely reached its mark before he had notched another, aiming for another of the creatures. Cori could hear hissing, screeching noises, and knew that Lurien and Elloras would probably be fighting them off, but there were some that would undoubtedly get through.

As she thought this, she heard clicking directly above her, and turned around, a scream issuing itself from her throat. Throndaer shoved her aside as the giant spider dropped towards him, and it suddenly crumpled, screeching. More had appeared around the edges of the clearing, some of them being shot dead by Legolas' arrows

Legolas was shouting in Elvish to Throndaer, who had dived aside as one of them lunged from atop the stone wolf, Legolas turning and shooting it without even pausing. Cori scrambled back, and felt her shoulders ram hard into the stone of the tomb. She pulled herself up onto the stone as another spider rushed at her, clicking loudly, and suddenly reared up screeching as an arrow struck it in the back of the head, before crumpling.

Cori grabbed the wolf's lower jaw, pulling herself up, and saw Legolas glance her way. Throndaer was on the other side of the clearing, fighting off several more, while Legolas was shooting any that got too close to the tomb or himself.

'Stay there!' he told her as he saw her crawl under the wolf's lowered head. He hesitated as he glanced her way, unable to see her, but he spotted her quickly enough. Cori wasn't going to argue with him – she had enough problems facing down a garden spider in her house; she didn't think she could fight off anything that was larger than herself.

From where she was sitting, Cori saw the spider hovering on a web above Legolas, hesitating as others moved in towards him.

'_Legolas!_'

He turned, hearing her shout, fearing she was in danger, and it was the moment the spider had waited for. It dropped onto him suddenly, knocking him to the ground, two more spiders covering him quickly as a splitting pain erupted in Cori's head. She heard herself cry out, collapsing onto the stone, and felt hands – her hands? – clutching at her head.

Something grabbed Cori's leg as she cried out from a second wave of pain in her head. She was being dragged out from beneath the wolf, and glanced back, sight blurring, to see the shape of one of the spiders, a silvery-white thread wrapped around her left foot. She grabbed desperately for a handhold, her fingers hitting something hard. She wrapped both hands around it, but as the spider pulled again, the piece of stone came loose, moving with Cori.

She swung the stone, feeling it was heavy enough to do at least _some_ damage, and a sword sliced through the spider's head. It released her, crumpling in on itself as Cori fell off the top of the tomb, landing heavily on the ground with a thud. Winded, dazed, her head pounding, she struggled to sit up, still clutching the stone she'd ripped off the wolf statue.

Wait, _that_ wasn't a stone—

She swung as a spider scuttled towards her, slicing across the creature's face. It screeched, backing up, then moved towards her again. Without thinking, she thrust the sword into the creature's head, and it screeched as it died, falling limply to the ground.

Cori pulled the sword out of the body, her knees suddenly giving way. It felt like her head was on fire, and she could barely see through the darkness creeping around her vision—

There was a low, dangerous growl from behind her, and a shadow leapt down in front of her. More spiders had been moving for her, but as soon as the shadow descended, they scurried back into the trees.

Cori felt herself falling sideways, hitting the soft grass as darkness reached her. She had the strangest sensation of something damp touching her cheek, a male voice calling her name from a distance, as though through a long tunnel…

And then everything went dark.


	8. 7 Breaker

**Christchurch, New Zealand  
>February 2<strong>**nd****, 2013**

Voices.

Voices everywhere.

'Is she gonna be okay?'

'The stress could be too much for her body. I've never seen anything like this before, but there have been reports in medical mystery files.'

Someone pressed something cold to her forehead, and she tried to open her eyes before deciding that wasn't a good idea. A hand wrapped around hers.

'Cori? It's okay; we've called Mum, she's on her way,'

Cori tried to open her eyes again, finding it difficult to breathe. The air felt so tasteless, so... _thin_.

'She's hyperventilating, get the oxygen back on her,'

Something was pressed over her nose and mouth, and she took in deep gasps of the sterilised oxygen. It tasted different, like there was something wrong.

An erratic, shrill beeping sound resonated to her right, and two voices muttered to her left. A third voice gave orders as hands fluttered all over her, pressing briefly here and there, checking her wrists, neck, chest—

'Cori, can you hear us?'

Two hands gripped her own. 'Cori, if you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hands,'

She reluctantly did as the voice told her, both hands responding to her brain's commands. How did she get here?

She sat up quickly, her eyes flying open despite the brilliant whiteness of her surroundings. The spiders! Legolas!

'Hold her down!'

Hands grabbed her shoulders, pinning her to the bed, and she struggled weakly as a young woman appeared in her vision.

'Cori, relax,' the woman had black hair and brown eyes, and darker skin with a sort of flattened nose that looked familiar. Cori frowned at her, before the memory placed.

'Nikki?'

Nikita smiled at her as she relaxed, the nurses releasing their grip on her shoulders. The last time Cori had seen Nikita, they had both been teenagers – but now, Nikita was a young woman, mostly matured.

'You had an accident at work,' Nikita told her, 'You've been in a coma for the last two weeks or so.'

Cori frowned as she tried to remember – the dresses, dropping off costumes, Jackson heading home...

'HR increasing,' a man in a white coat noted, 'We're going to give her a sedative,' he told Nikita, 'It'll put her into a light sleep for now.'

'But she only just woke up!'

'She needs sleep to heal,'

'_Coriel!'_

Cori felt the sedative already taking effect, felt Nikita clutching at her hand, but it felt like someone was shaking her shoulder gently—

She opened her eyes and looked up at Elloras.


	9. 8 Rescue

**Greenwood, Middle-Earth  
>Iavas 4<strong>**4****th****, 2925**

Elloras helped her to her feet slowly, looking at Lurien as he pulled Throndaer onto his horse. Throndaer seemed groggy and could barely sit up.

'He was stung,' Elloras explained, at Cori's questioning look. She frowned, looking around the clearing. Her head was still pounding, but she'd had headaches before – it was manageable.

'Where's Legolas?' she asked, realising he was gone. Elloras looked at Lurien, who gave her a cold look.

'He was taken,' he said simply, before turning to Elloras, 'Make your own way back; I will take Throndaer.'

He spurred his horse out of the clearing at a fast gallop, and Cori felt herself swaying. She caught herself on the edge of the tomb, looking up to see the stone wolf snarling perpetually.

'Where did you get that?' Elloras asked, gesturing to something Cori was holding. She looked down to see she was clutching a sword, and frowned at it.

'I-I think I...'

She looked up at the wolf, trying to remember back. Legolas had told her to stay hidden beneath the wolf, then he'd been attacked. Something grabbing her foot, the headache, and grabbing a part of the wolf to save herself.

Except the part of the wolf she'd grabbed had come free. She had thought it was a stone, but the wolf looked intact. Except...

The sword was gone.

The sword that had been encased in the stone of the wolf, sitting within it's mouth; the sword Throndaer had said nobody else could remove – it was gone.

Elloras had guessed it already, and was staring at the sword. Cori looked up at him, then back down at the sword in astonishment. It felt light and well-balanced for a sword not made for her, and she couldn't help but admire it. The blade was somehow dyed a pale green, a design carved at the base, and the hilt was made of some sort of pale gold metal. Strong, hardy leather had been wrapped around the grip, and a large emerald was embedded in the pommel.

'I've heard the legends all my life,' Elloras said softly as Cori held it up for them to both see, 'But I never... Never did I imagine it would still hold such brilliance after so long,'

Cori stared at it, remembering the reverence with which Throndaer had spoken about the sword being held by the stone. 'I-I don't know how I pulled it out,' she stammered.

'But you must have,' Elloras told her, 'Then the rumours of you are true – you are of Tolkien's kin, one of his blood,'

'I can't be,' Cori shook her head, but Elloras grabbed her shoulders.

'I have witnessed _many_ try to free that sword,' he told her, 'Many stronger than you, and none have succeeded. You are one of his kin,'

Cori shook her head, stepping away from him. Her foot kicked something in the grass, and they frowned at each other before Elloras bent down, pulling the object up.

'If the sword itself is not proof enough, this should be,' he remarked, holding the sheath towards her. It was the perfect length for the sword, made of a metal that was dyed a dark green. A leather baldric was attached to it, shaped like a lowercase Y, and Cori frowned at it.

'Millions have visited this site,' Elloras told her, 'And none have found that before. You were meant to have it.'

Cori sighed heavily, shaking her head. She felt weary, and her head was still pounding.

'Fine,' she sighed, sheathing the sword. Elloras helped her pull the baldric on, commenting how it fit her perfectly.

'We must return,' he told her, glancing back at where his horse, Alissel, and a white one stood. Cori frowned at the white one, before suddenly remembering.

'Legolas!'

Elloras looked at her sadly, nodding slowly. 'He was taken by the spiders,' he told her, 'Lurien will raise the alarm when he returns, but even then it will be too late.'

Cori shook her head, before it exploded with pain again. Screaming, she dropped to the ground.

Her memory was changing, a new layer of memories overwriting the old ones. Middle-Earth history, she realised, was changing. Thranduil would close the borders of his realm. The Dwarves of Erebor would be attacked by the Wood Elves instead of captured by them, and the grudge between the two races would deepen. Gimli, son of Gloin, and his hatred of Elves would tear the Fellowship apart long before they would even enter Moria. Frodo and Gandalf, despite the help of the eagles, would die on the slopes of Mount Doom. Saruman would keep hold of Isengard, never receiving the attack of the trees of Fangorn, who would in turn never be stirred by Merry or Pippin, who would perish at the hands of the Uruk-hai. Gollum would take and keep the One Ring for himself, and Sam would track him, both of them perishing in the fires of Mount Doom. Aragorn and Gimli would be slain at Helm's Deep, dying beside Theoden and most of his people.

And that was just part of the destruction it would cause.

The pain in Cori's head was worsening, and she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as Elloras scooped her up, carrying her to his horse. This was her fault! If Legolas hadn't been concerned for her, he would never have been knocked down; if she hadn't wanted to come, the group might have arrived earlier, or left sooner, or not come at all – it was her fault!

The rational part of her mind said that she was wrong, that this would have happened had she been there or not. But Cori wasn't thinking rationally at that moment. And besides, _nothing_ about _any_ of this was rational – there had to be some sort of god upstairs that hated her and was forcing her through this. Nothing here was normal. It was her fault, and there was no way she could fix it.

Was there?

She came to her senses, feeling the movements of the horse beneath her. Elloras had dropped one of his arms from around her, and a plan – a crazy plan, but a plan nonetheless – was forming in her head.

She pitched herself sideways suddenly, and Elloras shouted. As the ground raced up to meet her, Cori realised that maybe throwing herself off a moving horse probably wasn't the best idea...

By the time she had figured out her way back to the clearing, everything hurt. Pitching herself off the horse had injured her shoulder and knee on one side, and her headache, while now a dull ache, was still more hindrance than help.

She collapsed to her hands and knees in the grass, halfway to the tomb. Her hand hit something, and her fingers wrapped around it, lifting it from the grass. Numbly, she realised it was Legolas' knife. He must have dropped it when the spiders...

She bowed her head, feeling tears rolling down her cheeks again. The memory of the old story was fading, though still there. She wiped something away from her nose, staring at the dark green colouring. Blood? Elvish blood? Her blood?

Something damp nudged her cheek, and she shrieked, scrambling backwards as she saw the wolf. She looked over to the tomb, which was now just a rectangular slab, then back to the wolf that stood before her. The _live_ wolf.

It tilted it's head, ears pricked forward as it sat. Cori stared between it and the tomb.

'Okay,' she reasoned, 'This isn't right. This isn't gods – this is some _Stranger Than Fiction_ shit going on, isn't it? I'm either going crazy, or there's someone crazy, out there right now, with control over my life as they write some twisted, weird fanfic. Am I right?'

The wolf yawned, standing up and shaking itself off. Cori stood up, still watching it carefully.

'You're about to start talking to me, aren't you? Like a cartoon dog or something,'

'_Don't be ridiculous. My jaw was not developed for humanoid speech._'

'Okay, that was _not okay_!' Cori yelled at the wolf. 'You are _not_ a telepathic wolf, okay?'

'_No, I am not. In your primitive tongue, I am a familiar, or spirit animal,_'

'Familiar? Like a witch's familiar?'

'_Yes, if you will,_' the wolf – what had Throndaer called it? Eradrim? '_I am Eradrien,_' it added, sounding amused, '_You are Coriel, then. The Avari Human,_'

'Uh, Avari are Elves last I was aware,' Cori shook her head, 'I'm talking to a _wolf_. I'm going crazy. This is all in your head, Cori,'

'_By that logic, everything you have ever done is "in your head",_' Eradrien told her, '_When you dream, you believe it is real. When you are awake, you believe it is real. Who is to say that both worlds are not real, and you are dreaming within a dream?_'

'No, you're confusing me,' Cori told him, 'That's not okay, okay?'

Eradrien seemed to laugh. '_I am merely explaining the rationality of reality to you. For all you know, this life is the real life, and your life on Earth is the dream._'

'What are you getting at?' Cori snapped. Her headache was still pounding, and this talking wolf wasn't making it any better.

_Please, fanfiction writer god or goddess, be nice to me._

_Oh god, please don't turn me into a Mary-Sue._

_Talking wolf pet reeks of Mary-Sue. So does legendary weapon only I can wield. At least I'm not the prettiest girl._

_Need to get fat again. Mary-Sues aren't fat._

'_Coriel!_'

Cori groaned as she looked at Eradrien. 'What?'

'_Do you still remember the original stories written by Tolkien?_'

Cori thought for a minute, forgetting the headache. 'Yeah, barely,'

'_Then there is still time. Get Alissel,_'

Cori shook her head as she obeyed the wolf. Elloras had left Alissel and Legolas' horse in the clearing, and while they seemed a little wary of Eradrien, Alissel held steady.

'_Follow me,_' Eradrien told her, leaping off into the trees.

Cori sighed to herself, nudging Alissel to follow. If she was stuck in a dream, she could have picked worse dreams to fall into. At least there was a friendly talking wolf to guide her on her path.

Cori told herself that for now, she was just going to go along with it. That seemed like the best idea.

Eradrien led them through the forest, diving over and under fallen trees and weaving between the trunks. The further they moved, the darker the forest became and the more diseased and dead the trees began to look.

Alissel stopped suddenly, rearing, and Cori grabbed for something desperately, but too slowly. She fell backwards, landing on her already injured right side, and groaned as Alissel bolted.

Eradrien appeared beside her, looking slightly amused – well, he didn't _look_ amused, but she got the vibe from him.

'_You're supposed to hang on to the horse,_' he told her. Cori glared at him, realising she was still holding Legolas' knife.

She looked up to see they were in a clearing, dark shapes scuttling across a translucent silvery-white material stretched between the trees above them.

'_I will lead them away,_' Eradrien told her, '_Cut him down, and return to the path. Do not let the air infect your mind._'

Cori was about to ask how she did that when Eradrien leapt forward, climbing up a tree and into the web. She heard hissing and growling, and fierce clicking, and then several large shapes scuttled across the web.

Cori was already exhausted, but her head was still pounding, and the more she moved, the more the two stories kept changing, becoming more prominent and fading in turn.

Cori groaned, before grabbing one of the trees. Tree-climbing was her forte, fortunately, and she pulled herself up the branches. Webbing covered the bark, making it a little more difficult to grip, but she pulled herself up nonetheless, trying not to think about anything.

She reached the web, and stepped onto it. It felt strong enough to hold her weight, but she was still dubious.

_If this is a dream, I can't get hurt._

_If this is a fanfiction, and I'm a Mary-Sue, I don't get hurt._

_Okay maybe being a Mary-Sue isn't so bad. Sometimes._

She moved as lightly as she could, aware that each step took her further over the clearing. She could see several bodies hanging in the web – mostly large birds or animals – but only one of them was human-shaped.

Or rather, Elf-shaped.

She reached the largest body, grabbing onto a tendril of web that hung down to steady herself. She had shoved the knife into her belt as she'd climbed, and pulled it out now, cutting at the thread that suspended him by the feet.

The landing wasn't something she had thought out, she realised as she watched him fall, tearing the web and landing with a heavy _thump_. She winced at the sound, then realised she hadn't given thought to getting herself down.

She turned back to the trees as a spider reared up in front of her, hissing fiercely. It knocked her backwards, and she tried to scuttle backwards but the web caught on her hands and back, her efforts only entangling her more. The spider hissed, bearing down on her, and out of desperation she thrust the knife up through it's abdomen.

The spider crumpled, catching her among its legs as they folded in, and it plummeted through the web, tumbling over and hitting the ground on it's back.

Landing: sorted.

Cori hacked the legs away, throwing herself off the spider's body, wincing at the pain as it worsened in her right shoulder and leg. She managed to get to her feet, limping to where the body wrapped in web lay.

She could see his face through the pale silvery webbing, and managed to pull most of it away from his face, using the knife to cut it from his body. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to be breathing, and as Cori pressed her fingers along the side of his neck, she couldn't find any pulse.

'Please,' she gasped, the headache worsening again, 'Please, no. _No_!'

She grabbed him in her arms, holding his body against her as she began crying. The pain in her leg was too much to walk, and her head was pounding, making her nauseous. She had tried, tried through everything, and it still wasn't enough.

'_What do you want from me_?' she screamed at the trees. She was tired, she was sore, she wanted to be at home with her mother, and sister, and... and...

_He can't be dead. He just can't. Please don't let him be. Please, great gods of whatever the fuck is going on, please do not let him be dead._

She lay him on the ground again, feeling her tears falling, and looked up as shadows began to fall around her. Giving up, she lay her head down on Legolas's chest, closing her eyes. It was better to just die; she was never meant to survive in Middle-Earth, anyway. There was a steady, electronic beeping coming from somewhere to her right, and voices murmured around her-

His chest heaved, and Legolas drew in a choking, gasping breath. Cori jerked up, staring at him as he began to cough, before his breathing returned – hard, laboured breaths, but he was breathing nonetheless.

He opened his eyes blearily, and groaned softly as he turned his head side to side. He raised himself onto his elbows slowly, weakly, opening his eyes a little more.

'You're alive!' Cori cried, and without even thinking, threw herself at him, kissing him in relief. His arms collapsed under the sudden added weight, and he fell back onto the leaves as Cori realised what she was doing. She sat up again, rocking back on her heels, and wiped her mouth as Legolas weakly turned to look at her.

'Coriel?'

'Yeah,' she smiled, somewhat sheepishly, before looking around, 'We have to get moving; it won't be long before the spiders return,' she told him, 'Come on,'

He began speaking in Elvish, and Coriel sighed.

'If you're trying to tell me to go on without you, there is_ no_ shitting way I am doing that. I just risked my hide to get you back,' she told him, 'Come on, sit up.'

It was painful on her part, because she had to half-carry him off her injured shoulder, with her injured leg supporting the weight. At the same time, her memory kept rearranging itself, reverting back to the original memories, but it was still hurting her head, and she kept having to wake Legolas up, keep him going.

Her body was exhausted. The only thing keeping her going was the steady _beep, beep_ of the machine beyond her vision. She timed it with her steps, placing each step in time to the beep – she knew that if the beeping stopped, if it _ever_ stopped, she wouldn't be able to keep going.

Darkness was already falling on her when she tripped on an exposed tree root, stumbling to her knees. Her head was pounding once again, and she felt ready to throw up.

She was on her hands and knees, Legolas unconscious beside her, and her whole body was trembling violently. She felt her elbows give out, and she fell forwards, pitching into the dirt, and darkness began taking her body, tendrils weaving around her legs and swallowing her.

To be honest, Cori was that exhausted and sore that she didn't really care. The beeping was slow, faint, and as she closed her eyes, she stopped hearing it.


End file.
